


Letters Across the Atlantic

by OnionRelish



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, based on the events of an amazing curtwen rp (:, i'm sorry this is really sad ):, there's a little bit of humor at the beginning but it's all angst from there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnionRelish/pseuds/OnionRelish
Summary: Curt Mega and Owen Carvour decide that the best way to stay in touch is to send each other letters using anagrams of their actual names. This takes place a year before the events of the musical up to shortly after the staircase scene.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	Letters Across the Atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> Just a slight TW for mentions of suicidal thoughts

“Crag Mute?” Owen asked, raising a brow and clearly trying to hold in a chuckle.

“That’s what I said.” Curt crossed his arms with a smile. “Anagrams are the safest way to send each other letters. Sometimes my mail gets screened even if I send it from my home address instead of through the agency.”

“The best fake name you could come up with was  _ Crag Mute _ .” 

“Do you have any better ideas, Miss Veruca Norrow?”

“Remind me again why I have to be the girl?” 

“Because, darling, Crag Mute doesn’t sound very feminine.” 

“It doesn’t sound like a name at all.”

Curt couldn’t help but smile up at his partner, ignoring Owen’s comment, “Besides, I think you’re secretly excited to take on a new role. It’s the actor in you.” He playfully punched Owen’s shoulder, and his partner responded by letting out an incredibly dramatic sigh accompanied by an eye roll so hard that Curt was surprised he didn’t pull a muscle. 

“Why must you torment me so, love?” Owen pouted, falling theatrically onto the couch of their cheap hotel room, raising his hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. 

“You know you love me.” Curt sat down next to Owen, patting his knee affectionately. 

“That I do.” He paused for a moment. “Cam Tuger.”

“What?”

“Cam Tuger. That’s a much better name than Crag Mute, don’t you think? Unless you’d like to be Cream Gut or Great Cum. It could be short for Cameron or something.”

Curt nodded in agreement, snorting a bit at the alternative name ideas. Owen had always been the more creative of the two. 

“You could be A Cow Overrun!” 

Owen laughed at this, already missing Curt even though they were still together. He had a bad habit of doing that, and it certainly brought down his mood. They spent the rest of the night making the most of their last moments together. They had just successfully completed a mission overthrowing a Bosnian coup, and were both due back at their relative headquarters the next afternoon. But, they still had the night to relax and just talk without worrying about the repercussions of their secret relationship. So, they spent the remainder of their time planning out how they would communicate through letters without anyone getting suspicious in case either of their governments intercepted their letters. They decided that vacations or holidays would mean missions, a short one being successful and a long one being a failure. But, morning seemed to come quickly, and after getting ready for the day, Curt and Owen bid each other goodbye. 

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” said Curt with a bittersweet smile. He was rather proud of himself for remembering a line from a play he hadn’t read since high school, but it really was painful to let Owen go like this. After all, who knew when, or if, they’d ever see each other again. 

“That I shall say goodnight ‘till it be morrow,” Owen said somberly, completing the line and punctuating his sentence with a gentle kiss on his partner’s forehead. “Goodbye, Mega. I love you.”

_

_ July 4th, 1956 _

Dearest Veruca:

I miss you. A lot. More than I should, really. I wish you could be over on this side of the pond to celebrate the fourth, even though you Brits lost the war. Just another win for the Americans, but hey, no hard feelings. I hope we can meet again soon. Preferably under better circumstances than Bosnia, but I’ll take whatever I can get. You do look pretty hot with a gun, so there’s that. Anyway, sorry for the delay. I just got home from a short vacation in South Africa, it was not enjoyable in the slightest. Sprained my ankle pretty good, so I’m out of work for three weeks. Maybe if you get some time off we can talk. I love you. 

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ June 13th, 1956 _

My darling Cam:

I’m terribly sorry for taking such a long time to write back, I was on holiday in China for a short while. I’m stationed to travel again on Tuesday, so I’m afraid we’ll have to meet up at a later time. How’s the old ankle holding up? Feeling any better? I miss you too. 

Love, 

Veruca Norrow

_ June 31st, 1956 _

Lovely Veruca:

Ankle’s feeling much better. Still got a bit of a limp, but I can fully walk on it now. Went on a short vacation to Italy, didn’t get to stay long, but the food was great. I know you talked about wanting to try authentic tiramisu, so I picked up a recipe from a local on my way out. You know I’m not much of a cook, but I thought maybe you could give it a shot and see how it tastes. How’s everything going for you redcoats? Well, I hope. I miss waking up next to you in the morning, and I miss getting to look at your pretty face all day long. I bought some of that shampoo they had in our old hotel, the kind that smells like strawberries. It reminds me of you. Classical conditioning, if I remember correctly from my college Psych classes. Anyway, I miss you. Hope we can see each other soon. I love you. 

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ August 20th, 1956 _

Sweet Cam:

I can’t wait to make the tiramisu for us both, I can’t thank you enough for the recipe. Had a long holiday in Malaysia, and my boss gave me a week off to recover. I know you’ll get this letter too late, but I do wish we could meet up somewhere. Even if it was just for a few hours. I’d burn the world down to the ground if it meant getting to hold you close to me again, my dear Cam. My love for you only grows in your absence. Do keep in touch.

Love,

Veruca Norrow

_ September 18th, 1956 _

Darling Veruca: 

Sorry about the wait. It’s been a long month, had a short but exhausting vacation in Brazil. I miss you more every day. It’s getting colder over here, and I really do miss having you to keep me warm at night. Mom got herself a cat, but it’s not as good as you. Don’t really like cats too much anyway, but I know you do. Maybe you can come visit for Thanksgiving, I’m sure she’d really like to meet you. How’s the family? Are we still on for Christmas? I love you.

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ October 2nd, 1956 _

To the one I love: 

Hush up, you Americans know nothing of the cold. It’s not even winter yet anyway. I’m glad I’m better than your mum’s cat though, that certainly is encouraging. I’d love to see the little guy, so maybe I’ll talk to my boss about getting time off in November. I just returned from a short holiday in Cambodia, it’s a beautiful country, but I’d rather be there with you to be frank. Even if your country hasn’t one shred of decent culture or cuisine. My family is well, Janet is getting married next week, so I’ll be awfully busy until this fiasco is over. And yes, we are still on for Christmas. Alex and Sophia cannot wait to meet you, they insist on meeting the famous Cam Tuger their sister has been jabbering on about. I cannot wait to see you again, my love. 

Much love,

Veruca Norrow

_ October 19th, 1956 _

My sweet Veruca: 

Hey, it’s not my fault that I get cold easily! And if you’re going to come over to see the cat but not me, you can forget it. I am infinitely better than a stupid, smelly cat. And what’s all this about America not having culture or good cuisine? Last time I checked, you Brits stole every other culture in the world, along with their spices, yet somehow you managed to create the blandest food in the world. No offense, but I’ll take a nice hamburger over some Yorkshire Pudding or whatever you lobsterbacks eat over there any day. Tell Janet I say congratulations, and that I can’t wait to meet your other sisters as well. I miss you and I love you!

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ November 2nd, 1956 _

Darling Cam:

You’d better prepare yourself if you want to come over for Christmas, it gets very chilly outside. And we wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, now would we? Boss said I can have a week off, but I’m only coming for the cat and you can’t stop me. And those are bold words coming from a man whose country was established on enslaving people, so I’d hush up if I were you. Janet thanks you, and I can’t wait to see you soon, love. I’m looking forward to seeing what all the fuss is about Thanksgiving anyway, along with meeting your mum and  _ especially  _ the cat. I can’t wait, darling. I’ll see you soon.

Love,

Veruca Norrow

_ November 26th, 1956 _

Dearest Veruca:

You won’t get this letter until you get back home, but I thought you’d like coming home to some mail. Thanksgiving was amazing, it was great to see you again. I’m happy you were able to smooth talk my mom out of suspecting our relationship when she walked in on us making out. Still don’t know how you did it, but then again, you always were a charmer. My mom loves you, and the cat too. And I suppose I do as well, but that could change if you insist that the cat is a better partner than me. Maybe mom’ll let you take the cat, I’m eager to get rid of it. And don’t talk about the founding of our country when yours was responsible for geoncide and colonization as well. I guess both of our nations have their faults. Anyway, I’m off to Switzerland in a few days, so I won’t be able to write for a while. Keep me updated on what’s going on!

Forever yours, 

Cam Tuger

_ December 16th, 1956 _

My lovely Cam:

Thank you for the letter! You won’t believe how happy it made me to see this in my postbox when I arrived back at my flat. I wish you luck in Switzerland, I’m writing this in Alaska actually, just went on a short holiday up there and I’m now heading home. I can’t wait for you to come over for the holidays, my family is dying to meet you, even though they only know you as my work friend (save for Alex and Sophia, they’ve been aware of my preferences for quite some time). I’ve got a small gift, a token of my affections if you will, waiting here. So do come quickly, Cam, I can’t bear to be apart from you for much longer.

Love,

Veruca Norrow

_ January 3rd, 1957 _

Sweet Veruca:

I’m writing this on the plane, and I already miss you. Christmas was loads of fun. It was great getting to explore London with you, seeing all the sights and horsing around in the snow like kids again. It’s nice to take a break from work, to feel domestic like this. I know it won’t last, we’ve got work to do, but maybe someday we can settle down together. What a life that’d be, hm? Raising children in a little cottage by the sea, complete with a garden and a dog. Not a cat. Preferably a retriever or a lab, but I’m open-minded. Thanks again for the watch, it’s everything I ever wanted. Though I’d trade it away in a second to get to stay even an hour longer with you. I’ll talk to my boss about getting us together for a vacation again, wouldn’t that be fun? Sending love as always. 

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ January 28th, 1957 _

My dearest Cam:

I hope this letter finds you in time for your birthday, love. I’ve enclosed a small gift, in this envelope, something to remember me by when we’re apart. That sounds positively lovely, Cam, and I’d give anything to have a life with you. A real life, not just whatever we have going on right now. Sneaking around, always looking over our shoulders. I want  _ you _ , Cam, and I wish I could shout my love from the mountaintops. But, alas, our world is broken. Not us. But for now, working with you will have to suffice. I’d love to accompany you on holiday, even if it ends up like Bolivia. 

Love,

Veruca Norrow

_ February 14th, 1957 _

Love of my life:

Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet and lovely Veruca! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve spent my whole life praying for God to send me an angel, and I know for a fact that’s why he sent you. I love you, Veruca, I can never say it enough. I wish I could be with you every second of every day, lying beside you at night, laughing with you, crying with you, I just want to be with you for the rest of our lives. You’ve made me a better man, Veruca. You’re the sun, you shine so brightly and light up my life. You give me a reason to keep going, darling, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for the bracelet, I’ll wear it every single day until they have to pry it off my cold, dead body. I love you more than anything in the world. 

Forever yours,

Cam Tuger

_ March 1st, 1957 _

Dear Owen, 

I love you. I love you so much, Owen, and I don’t even care if people know. My life is over anyway. Owen, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Every time I close my eyes I see it. Over and over again, you falling. And screaming. And the crunch of your body against the pavement, the sickening thud as you hit the ground and I can’t get it out of my head. Please, don’t be dead. You  _ can’t  _ be dead, it’s just not allowed. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. We were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to live together, adopt kids, I’d even adopt a cat just for you. Anything, Owen, anything at all. Just please come back to me. 

Forever yours,

Curt

_ January 6th, 1958 _

Dear Owen,

It’s almost been a year. I don’t know if I can take this much longer. Every night I see you, and every night I drink myself into oblivion, until I can’t even remember my name. I’m not working anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back. I miss you. 

Forever yours,

Curt 

_ June 13th, 1958 _

Dear Owen, 

Happy birthday, Owen. I miss you so much, you know that, right? I hate myself for what I did to you. If I could go back and change it, I would. But I can’t, and now you’re gone. You’re gone. You’re gone and it’s my fault. I love you. 

Forever yours,

Curt 

_ June 13th, 1959 _

Dear Owen,

Happy birthday. Sorry I haven’t written more, I just can’t bring myself to think about you. About what I did. It’s real lonely without you here. I miss you so much. 

Forever Yours,

Curt 

_ June 13th, 1960 _

Dear Owen,

Happy birthday, Owen. I can’t believe it’s been three years. Three long years without you, and I don’t know how I’ve made it this far. But I’m still not okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. I swear I would take your place if I could. Sometimes I think it should’ve been me, and sometimes I think that I don’t even deserve to be alive right now. It’s a tempting thought. Maybe then I’ll get to see you again. 

Forever yours,

Curt

_ May 10th, 1961 _

Dear Owen,

I’m back at work. After four years, I’m finally back. I’m not the man I once was, that’s for sure. I keep seeing you everywhere. In the eyes of strangers, in the faces of people passing by. I wish you were here. I wish I hadn’t been so careless, that I hadn’t taken that drink, that I had set the timer for longer. I can’t stop thinking about you, Owen, even now on this mission. I love you.

Forever yours,

Curt

_ October 18th, 1961 _

Owen:

How could you do this to me? I watched you fall. I saw you die. I didn’t want to leave you there, but we would have both been killed if I had stayed. Now I wish I would have stayed. But after all the time I’d grieved.  _ Four years  _ I mourned you. And you didn’t think to tell me you had lived? Not only that, but you joined an organization aiming to expose the secrets of people like us? How could you? You’re not the same man I once knew and loved, Owen. Still, something in me clings onto that feeling. Love. Despite the torture, despite the gunshot wound, despite  _ everything  _ I still love you. And I’ll keep on loving you, Owen, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. That doesn’t mean I was wrong to put that bullet through your head. I don’t know how I’ll live with myself now that you’re actually dead. I keep thinking about how I’ll have to grieve again. And I’ll keep grieving for the rest of my life. I will lament what we could have been until the day I die. I love you, Owen Carvour, but I had to do this. For the world, for people like us. I couldn’t live with myself if someone out there got outed, got fired, or got killed because of you. And one day, I will stop Chimera. It might not be today, or tomorrow, but for the good of everyone like us, I will fight. And I will keep fighting. I know you were angry. I would be too if I were in your shoes. But this is  _ wrong _ , Owen. And I know you don’t forgive me, I don’t expect you to. I don’t even know if I can forgive myself. 

I loved you, Owen Carvour. I really did.

Curt

**Author's Note:**

> this hurt me to write ): the title comes from the song "Letters from the Atlantic" by the Arcadian Wild! kudos & comments are greatly appreciated!!


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